FIVE Not A Good Night
by NotSoAwry
Summary: In a fit of foul temper, Ron leaves Harry and Hermione.
1. Seeing Red

I'm not JKR, therefore Harry Potter isn't mine. If he was, do you think I'd be here? :-)

* * *

Seeing Red

What on earth was Ron thinking, when he abandoned his friends? Was he thinking at all?

* * *

"I believe the last time I saw the sword of Gryffindor leave its case was when Professor Dumbledore used it to break open a ring."

The locket twitched on its chain; heavy, cutting into the skin on the back of Ron's neck. He adjusted it impatiently, aggravated at the distraction. He needed to hear what the others were saying.

"Wait! Have you told Snape you saw this?"

Ron winced at the volume of Harry's voice. His head hurt and he wished they'd all just talk in normal voices. Was all this yelling really necessary?

"Professor Snape has more important things on his mind than the many eccentricities of Albus Dumbledore. _Goodbye, _Potter."

"Harry!" Hermione's shrill voice cut through Ron's eardrums like a knife.

"I know!" Harry shouted. Ron saw him punch the air and found himself annoyed at this sign of triumph.

_Stop pacing, Harry. You're making me feel sick. Would you just shut up! Everything hurts and I need to think. I can't think when you're both going on like that! _

He didn't know what to do first. His wrist hurt like the very devil, but the locket was growing hot against his skin. He rubbed at his wrist vigorously, not feeling any relief.

_What are they saying? Focus, Ron, you need to listen to what they're saying._

The locket grew cool against on his skin, but his wrist still hurt. Harry and Hermione were still discussing Ginny and the others at Hogwarts. Harry was ... _Is he LAUGHING?? That's my sister you're talking about, you wanker. It's not funny._

_Look at the two of them. Laughing about Ginny and the others being sent into the Forbidden Forrest. Not a care in the world, everything's just a big joke. I hate you sometimes, Potter. I hate this place and I hate the situation you've put me in. Who the hell do you think you are, Potter? Dragging me out to this god-forsaken place. And for what? _

_Look at her, hang off the Chosen One's every word. She doesn't look at me like that. Why the hell would she? Even my own mother thinks the sun shines out of his arse. The Great Harry Potter, come to save the world. The best at everything. I hate you. I hate you so much. Always better than me, everyone loves you better than me. You always get everything and you couldn't give a rat's arse, could you? You just breeze in and take it all, leaving me with nothing._

_I have to get away from here. Away from you. I have to get away from her and the way she looks at you._

"Yeah, you're right!" said Harry. "So, would he have hidden the sword well away from Hogshead, then? What do you reckon, Ron? Ron?"

Rage coursed through him, colouring his vision red and buzzing in his ears.

"Oh, remembered me, have you?"


	2. In the Rain

I'm not JKR, therefore Harry Potter isn't mine. If he was, do you think I'd be here? :-)

* * *

In the Rain

What happens after Ron abandons his friends? Mild swearing. Ron's POV.

* * *

It was raining, hard. He was wet and cold and he couldn't see properly.

_Bloody hell! What did I just do??_

"Hello there! What's this then?" A coarse voice yelped in glee from behind him. Rough hands grabbed his arms and he felt a wand being pressed to his temple. "Looks like we're in luck tonight, boys!"

_Shit._

Blinking the rain from his eyes, Ron counted four of them. Ragged and dirty – smelly too, even in the downpour.

_Ministry?_

"What's your name then, boy?" One of them leered at him obnoxiously as another twirled Ron's wand around his fingers.

"Uh." _Bloody hell, think! _"Stan," he lied, thankful that it was dark enough to hide the tips of his burning ears. "Stan Shunpike."

"Is that right?"

Ron tried hard not to gag as he received a face full of fetid breath. "Yeah, that's right."

"Stan Shunpike's in Azkaban," someone else piped up, "it was in the Prophet."

"Oh yeah, so it was ... so, Stan. Why aint you in Azkaban, then?"

Ron shivered. "Broke out. Me and some others. Malfoy, Knott, Rockwood." He could hear muttering behind him and his eyes slid to the one directly in front of him. _If I can just grab those wands ... I have to get back._

"But I seen Rockwood at the Ministry last week!" One of them was protesting angrily, "if we really got Stan –"

"Don't be stupid!"

"Who you calling stupid?"

There was a scuffle; Ron heard the sound of bone meeting flesh and someone bellowed in rage. _Come on, come on! _The grip on his arms loosened and Ron thrust his elbow back, hard, and then heard the immensely satisfying grunt of pain. _GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE! GOT TO GET BACK! _ Grabbing his captors' wand, he directed it at the one in front of him. "STUPEFY!" and he turned around "STUPEFY! STUPEFY! STUPEFY!"

It took but a moment for him to reach down and take the wands held in the frozen hand on the ground before he turned into the crushing darkness, hoping like hell he could find Harry and Hermione again.

***

He had to face facts. They were gone. They'd moved on without him – hardly surprising, really, all things considered ... and he had no clue where they were planning to go next.

Hermione always took charge of that and he cursed himself for not taking a more active interest.

_Maybe if you'd actually DONE SOMETHING instead of just sitting around bitching all day this would never have happened._

So what to do now? He sat on the riverbank, staring moodily into space.

Back to the Burrow? Not likely.

He certainly couldn't stay with Fred and George – they'd give him hell, and as much as he knew he deserved it ... well ... just no, that's all.

He couldn't to go to Hogwarts; too many questions, and he didn't want to run the risk of inadvertently putting Harry and Hermione in more danger.

_I can't stay here._

Then it came to him. Bill and Fleur. Bill would probably give him a hard time, but he was in the Order ... he'd know not to ask too many questions, at least.


	3. Safe but not Happy

I'm not JKR, therefore Harry Potter isn't mine. If he was, do you think I'd be here? :-)

* * *

Safe but not Happy

Ron takes cover at Shell Cottage. Bill's POV, with a mild newly-wed moment at the very end.

* * *

Bill Weasley opened the door to find his youngest brother. Dirty, bleeding, wet and a complete mess – but alive. "Fleur! Floo Mum and tell her Ron's here!"

"No!" Ron yelled in alarm. "You can't do that," he added in an apologetic tone.

"What's going on?" Bill pulled Ron into the small hallway, just as Fleur came rushing down the stairs.

"But it is Ronald!" she cried, hugging him tightly. "Thank 'eavens you are alive! I must tell your muzzer immediately!"

"No," Ron repeated, "please don't."

"But why ever not?" Fleur demanded.

"What's going on?" Bill asked again. "Where have you been? Where are the others?"

"Sit, sit," Fleur pushed them both into the kitchen, "a nice pot of coffee is what we need ... and then, perhaps" she looked Ron up and down, "a shower and clean clothing."

Ron nodded, listlessly accepting the cup Fleur pressed into his hands, muttering "Thanks Fleur" and staring at the table.

"So?" Bill prompted, "What's going on? Where are the others?"

"I don't know," said Ron. "We had – well, it was me, really. I walked out on them ... and now I can't find where they've gone."

"You did what?" Bill asked sharply, earning a slight look of rebuke from Fleur. "What happened? Why?"

Ron toyed with his cup, apparently finding the delicate floral print fascinating. "I don't know why. I was just ... really mad about, uh, things and I had to get away." He stared resolutely out the window. "I've never, ever been that mad before. So I yelled and Harry yelled and then I left."

"I have to ask, Ron, where have you been for so long? The rumours that are flying around – Dad told me – about how you three broke into the Ministry and released several muggle-borns."

"Yeah, we did that." Ron shrugged. "We were at Grimmauld Place for a bit, but we had to leave."

"What were you doing there in the first place?"

"I can't tell you, sorry Bill."

"But ..." Bill felt frustration bubble up inside him, "you can't just come here, looking like this, and then refuse to tell me anything!"

"Bill ..." Fleur murmured, her hand on his arm.

"Look, I'm sorry, OK. I can't tell you, or I would," Ron finally met his older brothers eyes, pleading with him to understand; "it's not that I don't want you to know what's going on. It's just too dangerous, for them. No one can know."

"Fine," Bill sighed in aggravation. "Can you at least tell me what's stopping you from finding them now?"

"Wards and stuff," Ron muttered, "I always wondered if they worked, now I know."

Fleur watched them both, and seemed to sense that Bill was about to start with more questions. "Ronald, you need to wash," she told him imperiously, "I will take you upstairs to show you the bathroom and then you may borrow clothing from Bill and come down for dinner."

***

"Do not be so 'ard on 'im," Fleur spoke softly when she returned to their small kitchen. "'E regrets it. You know that."

"So he should," Bill muttered, "I can't believe he abandoned them like that."

"Is it because 'e abandoned them, that you are so angry," she gave a little moue, "or because 'e refuses to tell you what they 'ave been doing?"

"Hmph." Bill pursed his lips, unimpressed. "Possibly both. Even so," he frowned heavily, "I don't see the necessity of all of this ... this secrecy! Mum's worried sick about him, about all three of them!"

"Of course she is," Fleur ran light fingers along his arm, "and what do you think will happen when she finds out 'e is 'ere?"

"She'll come straight down," he looked at her, confused, "and that's a problem because?"

"Because, my love, there will be questions to which 'e cannot give an answer – and she will, naturally, cling to 'im and not let 'im go again."

"The problem?" Bill persisted, unwilling to concede his point just yet.

"'E is so ashamed ... yes, I know, as 'e should be – 'e must find a way to rejoin them. How, I do not know, but something will come up. I am sure of this. 'E cannot do these things tied to your muzzers apron."

"How did you get so smart?" Bill grinned, suddenly smiling and good natured again.

"I 'ave always been so!" She drew herself up, affecting a haughty look. "You will do well to remember it." She smiled then. "'E can stay in the top room, can 'e not?"

"I suppose," Bill nodded, "it'll be nice to spend some time with him – I never really got to know him that well at home."

"'E is a good man, Bill, just as you are. Perhaps a little hot-headed and impulsive, but still a good man."

"Hot-headed and impulsive, huh?" Bill grinned at her fondly, grabbing her and pulling her onto his lap. "I recall you saying that about someone else, just last night."

"So I did," she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a lingering kiss.

"If he stays here," Bill pouted slightly, dragging one finger along her collar bone, "we're going to have to start being discreet."

"Hmmm." She knotted her fingers through his long, glorious hair. "This is the reason for silencing charms."

"I'm going to miss taking you on the kitchen table," he murmured, nipping at her neck, "and the living room floor ... the stairs to the attic ..."

"Oh, Bill," she just about purred, pressing against him and breathing deeply when his hand cupped one of her breasts. "After dinner, tonight, I am going to take you up into our bedroom and make love with you until you forget your own name."

"Oh ... well. That's OK then."


End file.
